


Their Love Combined

by gayyyluigi



Series: Of a Phantom's Child [1]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birth, M/M, Mpreg, graphic birth, in which Mme. Giry plays doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayyyluigi/pseuds/gayyyluigi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raoul suffers through the pain of childbirth, all the while fearing that he may suffer the same fate as his mother before him. He can't help but wonder if her spirit is there, watching over him as he brings his child into the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Love Combined

**Author's Note:**

> After rediscovering Lucifer Rosemaunt and subsequently reading through all their newer fics from the past few years, this popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so I had to write it out. Please forgive any inconsistencies or errors, although a comment notifying me of them would be appreciated!

"Maman!" Raoul cried out at the top of his lungs, his throat raw from yelling. Ragged sobs left him as he curled in on himself, pain ripping through his body like a red-hot sword. Of all the times Raoul had wished his mother to be alive, to have not died giving birth to him, this was the most desperate of them all. He felt like he was being torn in two as his inner muscles contracted, trying to force out the infant that had resided inside of him for the past eight months. Near delirious from the pain, Raoul could've sworn that he smelled the scent of his mother's perfume, the same lavender scent that came in the bottle Philippe had once stolen away for Raoul so he could know what his mother smelled like. In his pain-addled mind, Raoul desperately hoped and prayed that his mother was with him in spirit, to give him the strength to complete this long and arduous birth.

When Raoul's contractions had started, Erik had gone to fetch the one person he knew would be able to help; Mme. Giry. There the three of them were, in the basement home of Erik while Raoul had been trying for hours to deliver his and Erik's child. He had started out pacing the room in only the towel that covered his lower half, then had tried laying on his side, then rocking himself on a chair, but despite his efforts, his process seemed to have stalled, and Raoul was still stuck in active labor, not progressing into the transitional phase. In the fear of the moment, it felt to Raoul like eons had gone by, and he feared for both his life and the life of the child.

Now, Raoul was once again laying on his side in that same bed where he and Erik had made love, curled in on himself as the pain continued to mount. Erik was beside him, rubbing the Vicomte's back tenderly to help ease the pain, while Mme. Giry carefully watched Raoul's progress.

"Your Maman cannot help you," Mme. Girl calmly spoke to Raoul, sighing. The poor woman was rather frazzled, having spent all night trying to help the laboring Vicomte through the ordeal. "Erik and I are the only ones who can assist you, M. le Vicomte."

"Don't call me that," Raoul spat, venom in his voice. "Do not patronize me! You have seen my unclothed body for the past God knows how long, I rather think Raoul works just fine!" He grit his teeth, taking a shuddering breath as he tried to regain himself before the next contraction. As the next contraction struck, Raoul grabbed Erik's free hand, squeezing it so tightly that Erik was afraid that it might fracture his bones. The Vicomte's voice once again rang out in pain, and Erik had to resist the urge to pull back his hands and cover his ears at the way the cries seemed to reverberate inside his head.

The conception of the infant had been a complete and total accident. Erik and Raoul had not even been romantically involved with one another, only using each other as a means to relieve sexual tension after the Christine debacle had finally ended and both had moved on from the girl. However, the night a traveling gypsy magician came to the opera house, things changed between them, making it so that sexual partnership was required to evolve into something much, much more. That foul old woman had put a curse on Raoul, forcing him to carry Erik's child. For what reason Raoul had been the victim, nobody knew. 

Perhaps it was because the woman saw right through his facade of a relationship with Christine as the two of them continued to play as if they were betrothed. (Raoul had long ago admitted to his childhood friend that he simply could not see her in anything but a sisterly role, but the two of them had still feigned a relationship to maintain Raoul's heterosexual image.) Perhaps it was because she had noted the way Raoul had disappeared into the wall as he went on his nightly journey to meet Erik. Perhaps it was because she picked up on the faint moans one could hear if they put their ear to the wall. Whatever the case, this gypsy had felt it necessary to put such a curse on Raoul before continuing on her way.

Needless to say, both Erik and Raoul had been shocked when Raoul began to show signs that he was carrying. It took everything in Erik's power for him not to be angry at Raoul at first, to not fly off the handle as he had a tendency to do. After all, they both had equal fault in this, considering that Erik had been the one to impregnate Raoul. At first, there had been talk of trying to get rid of the unborn child, especially because of Raoul's fear of going through with the pregnancy... But in the end, they had decided that despite the odds being greatly against them, they would try and give the child a chance at life.

If only Raoul had known how awful bringing a child into the world truly was!

As the contraction came to an end, Raoul let out a choked sob, his body quivering in agony. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the end, if he was destined to die the same way his mother had. In desperation, he weakly called out for his mother once more, beads of sweat rolling down his face and plastering blond bangs to his forehead. Erik momentarily stopped rubbing Raoul's back to wipe the man's forehead with a cool, damp cloth before returning to massaging Raoul's aching lower back muscles.

Just as soon as that contraction had dissipated, another began, taking Raoul by surprise. He cried out in shock, body tensing as he grit his teeth in pain. He felt a hand gently ghost across his hair, but when he turned his head to look back, there was nobody there. Raoul let out a whine, panting heavily as he squeezed Erik's hand tightly in his own. Now, with that phantom touch, Raoul was SURE that his mother's spirit was in attendance.

"You are going into the transitional phase," Mme. Giry announced, sounding quite relieved. It was about time that Raoul moved on to the next phase! He had been stuck in active labor hour after hour, throughout the entire night, and there has been fears that he would never progress farther than that before his body succumbed to the painful endeavor. Erik couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, leaning down and kissing Raoul's burning cheek.

During the transitional phase, the contractions came hard and fast, seeming to overlap one another. Raoul felt as if he didn't even have an opportunity to stop and breathe! The pain was too, too much, and it felt like someone had set his body on fire. Raoul wasn't sure how long he could keep this up for. Desperation shone brightly in his baby blue eyes, and Erik felt his heart clench as he wished he could bring some form of relief to the poor boy.

"I can't do this," Raoul panted out, his eyes unfocused as he stared desperately up at Erik, as if Erik could somehow take the pain from him. "I can't, it is too much...!" He scrabbled for leverage against his lover, his free hand fisting in the fabric of Erik's shirt while the other still squeezed onto Erik's hand so tightly that the opera ghost felt his fingertips go numb.

"You have been so brave, my boy," Erik murmured, his smooth voice like soft velvet to poor Raoul's ears. "So very brave... You spared the child's life, gave it a chance, despite your fear. Even though you are not made for giving birth, you made it nearly to full term. You have stayed away from alcohol and your pipe through it all, even though temptation has been strong." He once again wiped the sweat from Raoul's face, and the boy whimpered softly at the relief the cool cloth brought.

"But I need you to keep being brave for just a while longer," Erik continued, eyes filled with sympathy for the poor young man. "I need you to be strong, and to hold on. For me. I need you by my side, and I cannot fulfill that need if you give up now. Can you stay strong for a little while longer?" Raoul didn't respond at first, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but then he gave a trembling nod, and Erik let out a breath of relief, glad that his vicomte wasn't going to give up just yet.

After another forty-five minutes or so had passed, Raoul felt the contractions slow once more, but gained a sense of urgency along with the change. He felt the head of his unborn child pressing down, and his body knew that it was time to start pushing. Raoul turned and got up on his knees, trembling as he leaned against the headboard of the bed. He couldn't have resisted the urge to push even if he tried. Letting out a keen of pain, Raoul bore down, hips rocking as his body strained to attempt to deliver the child. Erik's hand moved to massage Raoul's sore lower back, and the vicomte let out a soft noise of appreciation. As the amniotic sac broke, Raoul felt amniotic fluid rush down his legs, and he let out a hoarse sob of discomfort.

"It is alright, Raoul," Mme. Giry reassured the young vicomte as she took a towel and wiped the fluid from his thighs. "This means that your child is on the way! You need not panic."

Still, Raoul's fear seemed to remain, not willing to leave him be. The man's thighs quaked as he strained, and he pushed until the very last second of the contraction before resting in between. Once again, he smelled the scent of lavender and felt a hand run through his hair. Raoul let out a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks as he silently prayed for his mother to lend him her strength.

"Keep rubbing my back!" Raoul suddenly snapped at Erik, gritting his teeth as Erik's hand stilled momentarily. The other man nodded quickly, continuing to rub the sore muscles of Raoul's back. Something about being touched there made it fractionally easier for Raoul to struggle through this, and he did NOT want to lose that advantage.

After what felt like hours, Mme. Giry announced that she was able to see the head crowning. Raoul was on the final stretch! After a bit of coaxing from Mme. Giry, Erik peered down between Raoul's legs and saw a small head of ebony hair pushing through Raoul's opening. With a nervous hand, Erik reached down and stroked the infant's soft hair, eyes widening in shock. All of a sudden, this was becoming real to him. Raoul was indeed delivering their child. The baby was almost here. It sent Erik's heart racing, but he forced himself to calm, for Raoul's sake.

"It is almost here," Erik praised, wiping down Raoul's forehead once more and earning a soft whine from the vicomte. "Raoul, you have done so well! Only a bit more, and it will be here in our arms!"

Raoul thought he heard the feminine whisper of a woman from behind him, though it was quite distant and soft. Although he strained to hear her words, he could not, but he knew it could only mean one thing: that his mother was there by his side, encouraging him just as Erik was. It gave him renewed energy, and he continued to push with each contraction, eager to make his mother proud by bringing his son or daughter into the world.

"The head is out," Mme. Giry announced, cradling the infant's head in her hands as Raoul continued to strain. "Raoul, if you can bring out its shoulders, I can pull it out!"

"You are so close," Erik praised, a nervous but excited tremor creeping into his voice. "Raoul, this is it! Our child is nearly here!"

With the encouragement from those around him, Raoul was able to muster up the strength to give the strongest push yet, one that brought the shoulders of the infant into Mme. Giry's hands. Mme. Giry carefully grabbed the infant under the arms and pulled, the rest of its body sliding out of Raoul and into her arms. Raoul allowed himself to collapse on the bed, weeping bitterly as he put his head in Erik's lap seeking comfort.

The baby looked a bit blue upon arrival, which worried Mme. Giry and Erik greatly at first. However, Mme. Giry quickly cleared the infant's nose and mouth, then rubbed the infant's body gently, which prompted the newborn to finally let out a cry. The tension in the room was immediately broken as the sounds of the baby wailing shattered the fearful silence.

"You have a son," Mme. Giry looked to Erik, tears shimmering in her eyes. After practically raising Erik through her teenage years, she felt a strong connection to the man, like a mother or perhaps a sister. She had been the one to release him from being enslaved as a freak show performer, and ever since that moment, she had been there for the man. She was the one who he said a tearful goodbye to as he departed to Persia, and she was the one he came running back to when his career with the little sultana had come to an end. She had been the one to sneak him paper and pen for his musical composition and architectural design, and she had been the one to keep the man fed throughout the years. Seeing Erik have a family of his own after a lifetime of sadness was enough to make Mme. Giry weep.

"Antoinette," Erik gasped softly, giving Mme. Giry a one-armed hug, the other hand occupied with stroking Raoul's hair. "There is no need to cry, my dear! Do not weep, this is a happy occasion!" Of course, Erik could be considered a hypocrite at that; tears had welled up in his own eyes as well at the sight of his newborn son.

"You are so much different now than you were back when you were that scrawny, filthy little boy locked in a cage," Mme. Giry sniffled, wiping the infant clean with a towel. "Oh, Erik, how you've grown and changed...! A father..." She shook her head in disbelief. "I would never have imagined that this day would come." She grabbed two pieces of twine that had been placed earlier on the bedside table, tying them around the umbilical cord to slow the blood flow.

"Would you do the honors, Erik?" Mme. Giry inquired as she handed Erik a knife. Erik nodded solemnly, severing the connection between the newborn and Raoul. With that, Mme. Giry handed the infant over, placing him carefully in Erik's arms.

"Raoul, look," Erik coaxed, tilting Raoul's head up to see the baby. "You did it, my dear. Our son is finally here."

Raoul began to openly sob, tears of joy and relief rolling down his still-flushed cheeks. He had done it. He had delivered their child. Their son was safe and sound, and so was he. Raoul gently stroked the infant's ebony hair, prompting the infant to open his eyes and glance over at Raoul. Raoul couldn't help but smile as he saw baby blue eyes so similar to his own stare back at him.

"He's perfect," Raoul murmured, sitting up with a bit of effort and a bit of help from Erik. He caressed the unnamed newborn's cheek tenderly, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "Absolutely perfect... Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes and a little nose..." He took the infant into his arms, holding him against his chest so the infant could feel his warmth and take in his scent. "Lord, he's beautiful...!"

Erik smiled down at Raoul, feeling a distinct warmth in his heart at the sight of his newly formed family. He gently ran his fingers through the newborn's hair, his smile only growing wider. "He needs a name, my dear Raoul..."

Raoul looked down at the baby boy, frowning as he wracked his tired mind for a name that suited the beautiful newborn. "Hmm... How does Olivier sound? Olivier Philippe... Philippe after my brother, of course."

A smile tugged at the corners of Erik's mouth, and he nodded, tucking Raoul's head under his chin in a tender gesture. "Olivier Philippe de Chagny. What a perfect name for our little boy."

Raoul frowned slightly as he realized that Erik had used Raoul's last name instead of his own. "Why do you call him a Chagny? Why will he not take your last name?"

"I have no last name to give," Erik shrugged apologetically, sighing. "I do not remember what I was called before my mother gave me up to the show."

The vicomte was silenced at that, frowning at Erik's misfortune. Hearing of the man's dark past saddened him, but he knew it was rather selfish, considering that Erik had actually had to live through such awful times. "Then a Chagny he shall be."

After the afterbirth had been passed, Raoul handed Olivier over to Erik, letting out a yawn. Fatigue had set in quickly after the adrenaline had faded, and Raoul was absolutely exhausted. Before he nodded off, though, he turned to Mme. Giry, an exhausted smile on his face.

"Madame? Thank you so much for helping me to bring my Olivier into the world," Raoul thanked her, taking the older woman's hand and kissing the back of it gently. "Will you do the honor of being Olivier's godmother...?"

"I would be delighted," Mme. Giry replied, a smile on her face. She gently helped Raoul get comfortable, then tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind Raoul's hair. "Sleep well, Vicomte. Congratulations... You did it."

Feeling quite proud of himself, Raoul nodded, allowing sleep to capture him in its warm hold. He had truly done it... He was now a father. As he drifted to sleep, Raoul smelled the scent of lavender once again, and heard a feminine voice that sounded like a musical bell praising him for having the strength to deliver his son. Raoul smiled widely as he began to dream, knowing now for a fact that his mother had been by his side this whole time.


End file.
